“Parents wonder why the streams are bitter, when they themselves have poisoned the fountain.” – John Locke
“There can be no keener revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treats its children.” – Nelson Mandela
“A person’s a person, no matter how small.” – Dr. Seuss
Wounded
The tiny blonde woman wails like a banshee
Invoking her curse that I not see my children again
Since the Courts ruled she can’t see her children again
Says she will take me out like Rambo
Court orders sever familial ties
As Reunification services are terminated
A three-year-old boy
Whose name she doesn’t remember “You know, the one I hit.”
And social workers are left to assess detriment
For future visits with this parent
There will be no contact
And Jeffery learns he doesn’t have to hide
Each time he hears footsteps
Doesn’t cower at the knock on the door
The door is not after him It won’t slam him down
As when momma calls from the other side
His vocabulary multiplies each day
His now chubby freckled cheeks widen
As a grin spreads across his face
He runs to the waiting arms of his foster mother
Learning to trust – there are no tricks here
No fist hidden behind her back
Waiting to strike out
Like the eerie hissing of the snake
Whose incantations are lifted from my voice mail
Voice printing
As the sheriff’s department collects evidence
My office building covered with her picture
Covered with warnings – Do not approach
Report sightings immediately
She says that it is her daughter that she loves
The one with the heart condition … her name is Brittany
Does she remember?
Does she remember the names of any of the others?
Six others – each who have different homes
In different states across the country
Altered states
Is time healing their wounds? Do the scars show?
The deepest ones rarely do
Thousands of miles from here
Other social workers are dealing with scars
From the tiny blonde woman
Who wails like a banshee
On my voice mail
In their nightmares
In the quiet of my room
Late at night
Back at the office
I hesitate Before answering the phone
At work they tell me to be careful
“Watch your back” “get an escort to your car”
Reassurance that law enforcement is looking
For the tiny blonde woman
Is obtaining a warrant
They lie in wait for her
As she lie in wait for Jeffery
On the other side of the door
As she lies in wait for me
Wailing
This wounded animal
Lies in wait
Waiting to strike
And I wonder about the animal
That wailed lying in wait for her
Ripping its claws deep inside
Shredding her mind, her soul
Wounded, wailing
The tiny blonde woman
Wails and
Waits
Bisous,
Léa
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